The bar was full this Thursday night.

I started at 11pm sharp (George the bartender had my Gin 'n Tonic waiting) and played as per union rules with 15 minute breaks every couple of hours or so.

We had a full house, lots of ladies and gents drinking, bubbling up, smoking, laughing and the usual stuff that happens in this places.

At 'bout 3 am two ladies stepped in and went to the far side, where the lights are dim. I recall that one ofthe ladies, not very attractive facially but in very good shape, was a former french canadian pop singer, quite known and her days. The other lady, a young black girl who looked 'bout 10 years younger was her lesbian lover, as George pointed out during my cigarette break.

Anyway, they kept to themselves with mild touching while the morning dragged on 'till the point that I played "Angie" from the stones. The tune seemed to have caught their attention at which the black lady (upon the wishes of her lover) walked up to me, congratulated me on my handling of the tune, and slipped a 100 in my tip glass. She then asked me if I could play a jazzy rendition of "les feuelles mortes" or how you spell it. It seems the older lesbian's favorite all time was the great Ives Montagne and she longed to hear the tune.

Of course I bowed showing agreement (thinking that for the hundred you just gave me baby, I'll play whatever song you want lying on the piano with my hands touching the keyboard backward).

The dyke started crying upon hearing of the song while her young black female lover was carressing her. I noticed George the bartender was looking straight at them and I figured judging on how his mustache zoinked that he probably had a hardon.